Self-inflicted
by Demeterfan
Summary: Demeter's POV. When Munkustrap is blamed for a death in the junkyard, he begin to become more isolated and withdrawn. When Demeter finds out his secret, is it enough to ruin their relationship? Warning: contains character death and self harm in the later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**AN- Whooo, third fanfic! It's in Demeter's POV again, cause I do like her. :-) Munkustrap and Demeter feature a lot in this but there will be minimal romance. Please review because I love getting them and I'm still a novice so constructive criticism will be appreciated. Just as a warning, there will be some self-harm in this fic, but not for a while yet. Hope you like it. I did delete this but I've reposted it as I got a PM telling me that they were enjoying reading it so, here you go!**

**-Demeterfan :-)**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, I just mess around with them. ;-)**

**Chapter 1**

I've never really felt true happiness until me and Munk were blessed with our little Jemima. When she was a tiny kitten we simply sat and watched her all the time, as she slept, when she fed; it was like she was a particularly interesting exhibit at a museum. Once, when Munk was out on guard duty, I was grinning at her as she sleepily sucked one claw (which had been carefully filed blunt so she couldn't hurt herself) and her milky brown eyes rolled to catch me gazing at her and she gave me her first real smile. I don't think I've ever felt so thrilled.

Jemima grew quickly, almost too quickly; I wanted to hang onto that dinky little kit for as long as possible. My daughter developed a sweet, friendly personality, a lovely soprano voice and the largest, most beguiling eyes-though maybe I'm a little biased. Much to my annoyance and frustration, Jemmie also developed an infatuation for Tugger, and he had a habit of tickling her under the chin that made me want to rip his paw off.

I may have been happy, but the rest of the world seemed bent on destroying my little world. For whatever reason we didn't know, Macavity had once again made his presence known. He'd viciously assaulted several cats, issuing dark orders to 'warn the rest of the Jellicles.' And, much more terrifyingly, he'd tried to strangle Pouncival; luckily, the tiny Tomkit had shrieked so loudly that half a dozen Toms had raced to help, and Macavity had fled, outnumbered. Poor Pounce was left traumatized, unable to sleep without being plagued by terrible nightmares and refusing to be alone for even ten minutes.

Naturally, we were all left feeling extremely unsafe; mothers (including me) barricaded their offspring indoors and only let any cat within ten feet of them if they were absolutely certain they wouldn't whip out a razor sharp claw. Bomba and Tugger temporarily moved in with me, Munk and Jem as it wasn't safe for them to be alone in their dens. It was a burden, but I couldn't stand the thought of losing Bomba and, although they may fight like cat and mouse (that's such a ridiculous saying; we wouldn't lower ourselves to _fight_ with our food) I knew Munk didn't want his brother to perish.

Me and Munk barely saw each other nowadays. Guard duty increased dramatically after the attempted murder, but so few male cats were able to do it; most were either too young, (like Plato, Pounce, Tumble) too old, (like Gus and Asparagus) too busy, (like Skimbleshanks) or simply refused (like Tugger). Skimble helped whenever he was off work and Tugger, with of a bit of effort, could be forced into it, though he spent the majority of his guard moaning about it, but usually, the only available cats were Alonzo and Munk. Both could be completely trusted to ensure the safety of the inhabitants of the 'yard, but they took their duties a little _too_ seriously. It's not uncommon to see Munk perched by the front of the junkyard, near the gates, his head nodding with fatigue, and then find Alonzo sat close to the back of the 'yard, yawning and scrubbing at his eyes blearily. I once went into the clearing early evening and found Victoria at Alonzo's post, with him fast asleep beside her. It was unbelievable how much strain Macavity had managed to put on the lives of so many cats without causing a single fatality.

* * *

**About two weeks after the attempted murder of Pouncival;**

The early morning was dull and colourless, the sun sulking behind the clouds and refusing to allow even a few watery rays warm the air. Quite a rough wind bit at my face and sent the lighter rubbish around me leap and dance into the sky.

The day was no different to any other; my Jemima was still restless to venture beyond the safety of the junkyard gates; I still jumped at the slightest noise and made sure Alonzo was always in sight and earshot. Jemima raced ahead like she always did, I called after her to stay close, which she completely ignored. Snapping into protective mother mode, I hurried after my eager daughter.

Then, as sudden as an April shower, everything stopped being normal.

Jemima gasped and gave a little shriek, her voice jagged, as if she was being strangled.

"Jem?"

I called cautiously, quickening my pace to get my daughter back in my sight again. Jemima was silent, and the eerie quiet hung in the air like a bad smell.

"MUMMY!"

I nearly jumped out of my fur, sprinting towards Jemima's anguished yell. My little kit sounded so painfully terrified it brought tears to my eyes and made my heart flutter like a caged bird. Panting, I rounded a corner and grabbed hold of my daughter, scanning her for any cuts or bruises; Jemima's eyes were as large and wide as dinner plates and she was shaking fearfully, her little mouth open in a silent scream. Gripping her quivering shoulders, I turned her to face me, and then instantly regretted it when she promptly vomited violently down herself and most of me. I grimaced, but had much more pressing matters at hand than a few sick stains.

"Jemmie, what's the matter? What's happened? Has someone hurt you? It's okay; mummy will keep you safe."

I gabbled, looking around wildly for any threat. Jemima struggled to find any words, her mouth opening and shutting uselessly.

"_Tell me_, Jem!"

She flinched at my harsh tone and I instantly felt guilty. Her petrified eyes locked onto my perturbed ones as she gasped and coughed, and she gestured to the side with a quivering paw. Taking a deep breath in a (failed) attempt to steady my nerves, I looked. Screaming as loud as my daughter had, I clutched hold of Jemima, even though we were both soggy and disgusting, and we stared at the bloody, mangled body and sobbed together.

"Victoria! VICTORIA!"

Jemima wept, as if chanting her name enough times would bring her back out of sheer willpower and determination.

"It's okay,Jem. It's going to be okay."

I whimpered, but I was weeping so much I was barely coherent. I couldn't deal with things like this on my own; I could already feel hysteria falling upon me. I glanced around frantically and spotted Alonzo in the distance.

"Help...help..."

I called, as loudly as I could, but Alonzo didn't react. I tried again and again but I felt like I couldn't suck enough air into my lungs and I could barely talk above a whisper. Jemima was still feverishly yelling for her friend, louder and longer until she was shrieking. Alonzo, surprised by the noise, ran over to us, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Deme, what's wrong with Je-"

He gasped as he clocked what was causing Jemima so much distress. Hauling my squealing daughter onto my hip, I whispered soothingly into her little pointed ear and rubbed her back until her screams died into sobs, though she still muttered the odd 'Vicky' every now and then.

Alonzo took in poor Victoria's blood-soaked body, his face draining even whiter so the black patch around his eye stood out crudely. Shakily, he swayed on his paws for a few seconds, looking as helpless as a kitten, but quickly remembered that he was in charge and ran to inform the rest of the tribe.

Jemima kept trying to crane round to take another look at her unfortunate friend, but I gently pressed her head onto my shoulder; I didn't want her to see again, it would probably start up her screaming once more. Revoltingly, we were both still wet and sticky with vomit and the smell wasn't exactly pleasant, but I don't think either of us noticed.

I glanced up at the sky disdainfully; why wasn't it darker? Where was the thunder, the torrential rain, the forked lightning? The normality of the day was unnerving and out of place; it was like playing dirty music in a classroom instead of times-tables, or a classical orchestra in prison instead of a melancholy harmonica.

My half-mad pondering were interrupted by the arrival of the other Jellicles. Predictably, all the Toms gasped and the Queens shrieked, Etcetera and Electra burst into tears, grabbing onto each other, Pounce started shaking and Tumble clapped his paws over Pounce's eyes, shielding his little brother from the horrors. Alonzo had specifically not informed Mistoffelees- it had been decided that the death of his sister should be broken to him slowly and cautiously- but news travels fast and somehow Misto had heard about it. No one attempted to restrain him as he elbowed his way to the front of the group. We just watched fearfully, frozen; the older cats stopped shouting, Etcetera and Electra stopped weeping, Pounce prised Tumble's paws off so he could see and even Jemima didn't make another sound, though she didn't lift her head off my shoulder.

Slowly and methodically, Misto fell to his knees and felt for Victoria's pulse, obviously not believing the terrible news. As soon as Misto failed to detect the throb of blood, and therefore life, through Vicky's body he let out a howl like a wounded animal and buried his face in his paws, though the tears still seeped through.

"No! Vicky, wake up, please..._please_! Come on, I know you're just pretending."

He sounded so convincing I expected Victoria to suddenly leap up, laughing at her joke. After seeing my daughter distraught, Misto heartbroken and the rest of the tribe pitiful, I'd have hacked my arm off to make that happen. Misto clung onto Vicky's paw like an alcoholic clutches a bottle, his body racked with sobs, his face screwed up with sorrow.

"No, Vic, you can't die! Please...don't. I've already lost our mother, you're all I've got! I can't lose you, too! Please...come back..."

he whimpered. Most of the Queens were crying along with him- I know I was.

"I'm so sorry, Misto..."

Jennyanydots whispered, wiping her eyes. Alonzo looked too chocked up to risk speaking, but he placed a comforting paw on Misto's shaking shoulder. Misto took a deep breath and swiped a disdainful paw across his face, but fresh tears quickly replaced the previous ones. Keeping his moist eyes glued to the floor, he clambered up and turned to Alonzo.

"Can you take her away please? I can't stand to see her like..."

he trailed off, but we all got the message. Alonzo nodded wordlessly, unshed tears shimmering in his icy-blue eyes. Turning my head, I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to watch anymore; I couldn't bear to see her limp body being carried away, didn't want to look as the blood stained Alonzo's fur. Munk wrapped his arms around me and Jemima (tactfully ignoring the fact that we were both in serious need of a wash), clinging onto us for comfort. I somehow managed to smile weakly at him, remembering why I fell in love with him with that one thoughtful gesture.

My smile was soon harshly knocked off. Misto suddenly whipped round to face us, his brown eyes full of hate. At first I though he was angry that I was smiling at such a serious moment but it wasn't me he was glaring at so viciously. It was Munk. Storming up to us, Misto jabbed an accusing claw in Munk's face and addressed him in a tone that oozed malice:

"You did this! It's your job to protect the junkyard and your incompetence got my sister killed!"

I expected Munk to tell Misto that that was crazy, that he was just looking for someone to blame as it made the grief easier. But Munk just stood silently, looking heartbreakingly guilty and not meeting Misto's chocolate eyes.

"Some protector! You really did a good job, letting my sister get murdered. The blood lies thickly on your paws, Munkustrap. You make me _sick_!"

he spat, and then stomped off, starting to weep again. Everyone coughed and shuffled about awkwardly, trying not to look at us. I grasped my mate's paw, shifting Jemima to my right arm.

"Munk, you know he didn't mean that, don't you? He was just so upset about Vic that he lashed out at the first person he could. _Please_, don't take him seriously."

I begged, tugging on his arm imploringly. Munk sighed dejectedly, his eyes sad.

"Why should I not? He spoke the truth; if I'd have been more careful Victoria might still be alive right now."

"But he didn't _mean_ it, Munk. I know you; you will have done all you could. For Everlasting's sake, you haven't slept in days! Promise me you won't dwell on what Misto said."

A smile danced fleetingly across Munk's face and he kissed me playfully on the nose.

"Okay, okay, I promise it won't cross my mind again."

He sounded so sincere, but those dark green eyes flicked from Jemima, to the surrounding Jellicles, to the place where Victoria's body had been found. He looked everywhere but at me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! Right, here is the second chapter. ...there isn't really anything else to say except I hope you enjoy and please R&R!**

**-Demeterfan**

**Shoutouts: A big thank you to Meow Miss K for your lovely review; it made my day! Thanks to anyone who followed the story and to anyone who simply read it. :-)**

**Disclaimer: I own none of CATS**

**Chapter 2**

Predictably, Jemima was disturbed by a nightmare the night after poor Victoria's unfortunate demise; I don't doubt that each and every kit in the junkyard were roused by similar terrifying images. Munk was, yet again, out on guard duty, so it was just me to comfort my traumatized daughter. That was one of the (common) times I wished that Munk could be home much more often, as he was much better than me at calming Jemmie down, but my dear little kit accepted my attempted consolation willingly enough. I parroted the general bad dream, mum phrases I'd heard all my kittenhood, saying that it was only a dream and nothing could hurt her and asking what it was about (though,of course,I knew).

"It was about today, mummy."

Jemima whimpered into my chest, clinging onto my fur. She paused ominously.

"And Vic..."

Gritting my teeth so hard I was amazed they didn't crumble, I cuddled my kitten closer to me, running my paws through her bedraggled headfur.

"It must have been very scary."

I said, but Jemima shook her head wildly.

"That wasn't the scary part."

she said, shuddering slightly at the memory. I raised my eyebrows quizzically.

"Oh, no?"

"No, it was scary when I woke up and remembered everything... It was scary when I realized that Vicky really is dead."

Jemima broke down in sobs, the sort of pained, anguished sobs I'd never wanted to hear coming from my daughter, or anyone else I loved, for that matter. The mournful sound saddened me and my own tears threatened to wriggle out; no, I had to stay strong for Jemima. Feeling utterly helpless, I grabbed onto my kit and patted her back uselessly, muttering inaudible phrases, partly because I was still forcing back tears, and partly because I didn't really know what to say. I hoped my incoherent mumblings sounded comforting, but, evidently, it didn't have the desired effect as Jemima suddenly cried out:

"It's not _fair_! Why did Macavity have to kill Vicky? Everyone loved her, Plato was going to be her mate, she was the only family Misto had left! And now we're talking about her in the past tense. It's mad!"

Jemima sat back on her knees, breathing heavily and biting her claws, something she only ever did when she's scared or confused. I pressed my lips together; I didn't seem to have the ability to calm her down. Munk would simply stroke her cheek or brush her tears away, and she would immediately giggle and cheer up, but I couldn't console her. Since I could not stand to watch her frantically nibbling, I grabbed hold of her wrist and gripped her (slightly damp) paw.

"Oh, Jem, it's not fair at all! But Victoria will be with the Everlasting cat now, and, when Macavity's time comes, he'll tumble straight down into Hell where he belongs."

I said fiercely, silently praying that that day would come _soon_. Jemima stared at me, her milk chocolate eyes clouded with disbelief, but she didn't have the heart to contradict me. Sighing, I gently pulled Jemima down onto the cushions that I'd been sleeping upon.

"Come on Jemmie, we should try and get some sleep now."

I whispered, laying down beside my daughter and draping a bedraggled, moth-eaten blanket over us. Defiant as always, Jemima kept her eyes wide open, fingering the scratchy blanket and wrinkling her nose at the unattractive sludge colour, so different from the dusty pink, fluffy blanket Mungojerrie had stolen as a gift for her. She found a small hole in the corner of the grubby blanket and fingered it carefully, poking her claws up and increasing the size considerably. I glanced at her busy paws.

"You're making it worse."

I mumbled, but didn't have the energy to tell her off properly; it was just a scrubby old blanket, after all. Once she'd managed to shove her full paw through the hole, she wriggled closer to me and I curled my arms around her protectively. Jemima was still for a while, and I thought she'd drifted off to sleep, but then I felt a tiny tickle as she whispered in my ear.

"Mummy?"

I opened one eye, yawning wearily.

"Yes, Jemmie?"

Jemima started biting her claws again, as if she was about to ask something she wasn't sure she should.

"Why was Misto nasty to daddy, today?"

I bit my lip, trying to form an answer that wouldn't lead to loath her father or Mistoffelees; a more difficult task than I'd anticipated. I was dithering for so long that Jemima nudged me with her sharp little elbows, thinking I'd fallen asleep.

"Misto was very upset about Victoria. When you're very upset, you sometimes say things you don't mean."

Jemima shuffled so close she was nearly on top of me, whispering even quieter, though no one was awake but us.

"But Misto said it was daddy's fault that Vicky got killed; he didn't say it was Macavity."

she said, sounding concerned that her dad might be a killer. I groaned inwardly; I'd hoped Jemima hadn't registered Misto's sharp words, but it turns out my daughter was more observant than I thought.

"It's not your dad's fault. Always remember that, Jemmie; your father did everythink he could to protect the junkyard. Macavity is the killer."

No one doubted that Macavity was the culpret; no other cat could have executed a crime so perfectly, without leaving the slightest mark. It always struck me as ironic: the fact that Macavity left no evidence was evidence in itself.

"Do you think Misto will not like me anymore? Will he be nasty to me, too?"

Jemima asked, her voice wobbling up and down with emotion.

"No, of course he won't, Jem; I'm sure of it."

I _wasn't _sure; after seeing the hatred in Misto's eyes I wouldn't be surprised if he exiled any cat who was even distantly related to Munk. I could only hope he'd see sense when he calmed down and maybe had a good weep, and as Misto was usually a sweet little Tom I was desperately hoping we wouldn't lose his friendship. My thoughts were interrupted by Jemima's voice tickling my ear again.

"Mummy?"

"Mmmnnn?"

"Have you ever seen daddy cry?"

I thought this was a rather odd question, but I decided to humour my curious daughter with an answer.

"Yes, he cried when you were born, when he saw you for the first time."

Jemima half-sat up, her face alarmed in the gloom, horror evident in those trademark huge eyes.

"Didn't he want me?"

she cried, forgetting to keep her voice low so as not to wake her snoozing Uncle and Aunt in the next room. Shushing her and pushing her back onto the pillows, I smiled a little, amused that she'd assume crying was linked to sadness.

"Of course he did! He cried because he was so thrilled to finally have a Queen kit."

I reassured diligently and Jemima relaxed again, closing her eyes. My brow furrowing, I wondered why Jemima had asked such a strange, random question; surely something had pushed he to ask. Fear suddenly clutched at my chest, wondering if Jemima had seen her father crying _recently_.

Jemima was making soft snuffling sounds, like she was on the edge of sleep, but I shook her frantically, unable to wait till the morning to ask her the pressing question.

"Jemmie? _Jemmie?_ Have you ever seen your father cry?"

Jemima slowly opened her eyes, yawning, and I had to parrot the question three times before her sleepy brain could register it.

"Yes, only once..."

she whispered, eyes lids drooping like they were made of lead. Driven half-mad with anticipation, I shook my poor daughter awake again.

"When was it, Jem?"

I persisted, gritting my teeth, but Jemima had lost track of the conversation.

"When was what?"

"When did you see your dad cry?"

I half shouted, frustration lacing my voice. Jemima eyes were closing again, but she mumbled something almost inaudible with the fatigue that consumed her. She said:

"It was earlier this evening, when he was sat at his post."

* * *

Jemima slept with me for the full night, her head on my outstretched arm; she didn't wake up again, though she frowned and kicked her legs in her sleep, as if she was running hard in her dreams. I stayed awake hour after hour, listening to my daughter's heavy breathing and feeling my arm slowly go numb under the weight of her head.

My thoughts buzzed around my head like angry wasps, preventing me from even attempting to rest, and, try as I might, I couldn't block them out. If what Jemima had said was true, and there was no reason for her to lie to me, then Munk had undoubtedly been crying over what Misto had said, when he'd thought no one could see. I imagined him seeing Victoria's blood soaked corpse in head and replaying the confrontation with Misto, sobbing pitiously, and the image made me clench my free paw, rumpling the blanket.

I sighed involuntarily, and then glanced at Jemima worriedly, afraid I'd roused her. When she didn't stir, my concern flitted back to my guilty mate. I considered the fact that Jemima _could_ be lying, but this didn't seem at all likely; Jemima was the most terrible liar.

When she was a tiny kitten, she'd lie about something silly- things like she hadn't taken Etcetera's ball of string when it was really hidden in her room, or she hadn't participated in some forbidden activity when she'd really been an enthusiastic member- but she'd feel so guilty about it she'd suddenly blurt everything out to me or Munk and then burst into tears, convinced she was the worst kitten in the world. Now she was a bit older and a bit more sensible, she mostly steered clear of lying in general, as it saved all the stress.

So, maybe she'd simply not realized what she was saying; she was half-asleep, after all. But I quickly ruled this out as well; her sentence was too coherent, made too much sense to be just dream nonsense. I sighed sorrowfully again; it was very likely that what Jemima said was true. Why was Munk always so _sensitive_? I knew he wasn't wimpy about everything; he showed (unlike me) absolutely no fear when face to face with Macavity and I've seen him put Tugger in his place a few times, but I knew this was different. If something happened to any cat in the junkyard on his watch, he thought that he, personally, had failed that individual, Old Deuteronomy (who was also his father, so that didn't help), and every other cat in the junkyard. The severity of the situation started to sink in properly, and fear started to knaw in the pit of my stomach.

I don't know how long I lay awake, but I must have passed out from exhaustion at some point, because when I opened my eyes, stiff and uncomfortable, silvery dawn light streamed in through the dinky window, and I could hear the high pitched calling of birds. Bird songs in the morning always unnerved me; when Macavity held me captive I didn't have any windows or way of telling the time, so the birds informed me that another day had passed and a new one was about to begin.

Easing my arm out from under Jemima's head, I winced as pins-and-needles prickled up to my shoulder, shaking the squashed limb around to try and get the blood flowing properly again. Soft snoring emanated from Bomba and Tugger's room, thank the Everlasting cat; I hadn't been overly keen on them sharing a room together, especially as Tugger had just announced that he and Cassandra had decided to 'just be friends'. Though I think the decision was more down to the fact that Alonzo practically clawed Tugger's eyes out for messing with his Queenfriend. But, although I'd had my doubts, my sister and Tugger had been fairly well-behaved- as far as I knew, anyway.

Silently and carefully, so as not to wake anyone, I crept up to the tiny window and scanned the clearing; there was Munk, perched diligently at his post, headfur sticking up wildly as if he'd been running his paws through it worriedly. He had his back to me, so I couldn't see whether he was sad or weeping or depressed. Pressing my face against the cool glass, I strained to see what he was doing, my warm breath steaming up the glass. His head was bent and he was twirling something round and round in his paws, as if he couldn't understand why the item was there. I squinted and peered determinedly, but couldn't figure out what the object was; I didn't recognise the shape.

I squatted in front of the window for a while, watching my mate, though he didn't move a muscle. The twirl of the unidentified thing became hypnotising; I suddenly felt my eyelids drooping, giving in to the relentless fatigue that made my head feel fuzzy. In seconds, I was asleep again.

I can't have been snoozing for long, as the sun wasn't still fully in the sky when my head smacked on the window glass. For a dazzling, confusing moment, I had no idea why I was stood at the window, couldn't fathom why the glare of the sun had been the first thing I saw, but as sleep slowly left me, I remembered.

Hastily, I searched for Munk at his guard post, praying desperately that he hadn't moved on to another place. No, he was still there. Biting my lip anxiously, my eyes slid down his arms (which were now hanging listlessly by his sides) to the object in his hands. Recoiling violently, I barely suppressed a scream as I watched the early morning sunlight glinted menacingly off the metal blade. I wanted to look away, to bury down with my daughter under the sludge brown blanket and push the knife to the back of my mind, squashed up in the dark with everything else I've had to repress, but some unknown force made me look closer. The blade was streaked with blood.

* * *

I spent the rest of the day wondering around in a daze, not even noticing Tugger kissing my sister late afternoon, something that would usually resulted in me inflicting some kind of serious punishment. I couldn't understand it; Munk, my sweet, compassionate Munkustrap- a killer? I was sure Macavity was the murderer, but somewhere, deep down in a darker part of me, knew it would have been much easier for Munk to kill a Jellicle. He was trusted, a guard and had full access to all the dens. Did I really have that terrible a taste in Toms, one condemned murderer and one possible? I hated the unknown at the best of times, and with something like this the fear consumed me completely; I've never been good with coping with fright, and add insomnia and I come close to having a breakdown.

Munk did nothing to ease my concerns either; he only spoke when it was absolutely necessary and stayed out practically all the time. Whenever he _was _home he didn't kiss me on both cheeks and then my nose like he usually did and he didn't pick Jemima up and spin her round like normal. Usually, he just sat by the window, the light making his silver fur shine, staring into space, his eyes dull and listless. Terrifyingly, I was seriously starting to consider the possibility that Munk could be a murderer.

My paranoia made the next few days agony, but when there were no more murders, I started to relax slightly. So, when Skimbleshanks offered to take the night guard one cool, calm night, I was thrilled to finally have Munk to myself; even if he _had_ killed Victoria (and I was still clinging to the hope that he hadn't) I continued to love him with all my heart. With Munk's tender arms around my waist, I felt safe, I felt protected, and any fears of Munk killing Victoria flew right out of my head. Of course he couldn't have done it! My fear of Macavity and the possibility that Jemima could be the next victim had pushed me over the edge. Peaceful for the first time, I drifted into a slumber, comforted by his warm frame beside me.

* * *

When I was next jolted awake, it was pitch black, the stars still luminous in the inky sky. Munk was wriggling away from me, detaching his arms from my waist; I was about to scold him for waking me up so late at night, but, as my brain started to become less foggy with fatigue, I felt all my previous worry fall back upon me like a heavy blow. Munk had no reason to be going out, since he wasn't on guard duty. For a second, hysteria set in as I thought he might target me or Jemima; I made a pact to protect my daughter with everything I had. If I had to die, I was going to die trying to save her.

But my planning was wasted, as I watched Munk simply steal out of the door, the knife in his hand winking mockingly as it caught the moonlight. Suddenly, I couldn't stand it anymore; I had to find out what he was up to. Curiosity overpowered common-sense, and I slowly followed Munk out of the door.

The cold night air helped to clear my head, but made fear crawl down my spine like an icy hand; I hadn't realised the darkness would be so dense, it enveloped everything. As I followed Munk's shadowy silhouette, it dawned on me that I might witness him doing something horrific- maybe even murdering another cat. These awful images, combined with the blackness of the night, made my steps blundering, my movements clumsy, my breathing laboured.

After a while, it was obvious I would pass out if I forced my body to stumble any further; I leaned against the broken oven, listening to my heart pound and feeling the blood throb in my temple, squeezing my eyes shut. I was so dizzy with fear and fatigue that I failed to notice the small clatter of rubbish falling, didn't detect the presence in front of me. Only then did I feel those eye burning into me like lazors. I knew who it was, of course I did, but I didn't open my eyes, although every instinct told me to defend myself. Forcing my eyes shut even tighter, I pressed my paws to my face, so hard that I saw swirling patterns dance in the darkness; I so maddened that I thought if he couldn't _see_ me, he couldn't _hurt _me. A low, scornful chuckle reached my ears, and I knew he wasn't going to go away and I'd have to face him sooner or later. Holy Heavyside, I wished it could be later.

Even so, I slowly lowered my paws, taking in the huge Tom properly. I couldn't see much in the gloom, but I would have recognised those vile yellow eyes and gleaming, razor-sharp teeth anywhere.

"Macavity!"


	3. Chapter 3

**AN-Third chapter is now up! I took this story off for a bit but put it back on when I received a PM asking where it was. Just as a warning, there is quite a lot of violence in this chapter and a very brief mentioning of self-harm (more about this in the next chapter). If this isn't your thing, just don't read it 'cause I don't want to offend anyone. Please R&R!**

**-Demeterfan**

**Shoutouts: Thank you so much to Meow Miss K and HumanGuineapig for your lovely reviews; I love getting them and they really made me smile.**

**Disclaimer: I own none of CATS, sadly.**

**Chapter 3**

Macavity smiled menacingly, his eyes sparkling with malice. Feverishly, I attempted to stumble away, but he gripped my wrists, his sharp claws digging in painfully.

"I've missed you, my dear**."**

he whispered, pulling me harshly towards him, jerking my head backwards. Desperately, I tried to wriggle free of his grasp, but his paws felt as strong as iron bars.

"Please let me go..."

I murmured and he laughed scornfully.

"Why would I do that, when I've only just got you back?"

Shoving me closer to him, he kissed me roughly, his tongue forcing its way down my throat; I was severely tempted to bite it off. Furious beyond belief, all common sense flew out of me and I grabbed a handful of his wild red mane and yanked so hard I was left clutching a whole hank. Macavity yowled painfully and hastily scratched me down the cheek, making fire burn over my face. Although I tried to force them back, tears spurted down my wounded cheeks; that scratch was enough to bring back the memory of so many similar inflictions I'd been subjected to from him. Macavity pushed me against the broken oven, pinning me by the shoulders. I whimpered and Macavity growled.

"Shut up!"

He shook his head, tutting playfully, making a joke out of it, though his eyes were as cold as a Winter gale.

"Oh, Demeter. You really shouldn't have done that. Don't you remember what happens when someone does something like that to me?"

Of course I remembered; I remembered the broken ribs, the bloody gashes, I remembered watching him slit the throat of one of his henchcats.

"Please don't... I'm sorry..."

I gasped, starting to sob frantically; I didn't want to die. For a second, Macavity looked wistful, and he cupped my chin, though his paw got coated in tears and blood.

"Such a waste."

he whispered, sighing pitifully.

"_Such_ a shame. I loved you, Demeter."

He paused ominously, shaking his head.

"Maybe I still do..."

He gazed at me longingly, making me squirm, the tears still cascading down my face, the rusty taste of blood still pooling on my tongue. Of course, I knew what he wanted me to say, to do, but I couldn't bring myself to say I loved him, even if those very words might just save my life. Maybe I adored him once, but he beat all the affection out of me, made it so my heart beat faster with terror rather than infatuation at the sight of him. Like the unrelenting sea eroding away a cliff edge, he wore me down bit by bit until my loving turned to loathing.

So I kept my quivering lips firmly clamped together, but Macavity wasn't put off.

"Look."

he said, his voice suddenly serious, which didn't suit him.

"This is a one time opportunity, Demeter, but if you return with me now, I'll take care of you and we can be happy together. But if you refuse, I'll decorate the junkyard with your blood, just like I did with that pretty little white kitten."

He spat out the last part, seeing the look of utter horror playing on my face. I felt like I was suffocating with guilt; I'd suspected Munk, followed him around, spied on him, and all it had done was get me stuck in a position I had no idea how to get out of. At least somewhere in my fear crazed mind, one conscious thought got through: I was never going back with him.

Macavity pressed harder on my shoulders, so forcefully I was surprised the metal on the oven didn't warp, waiting for an answer. My mind was still trying to understand that Macavity was the killer, not Munkustrap, and I couldn't speak, I couldn't think straight, I couldn't _breathe_.

"Victoria..."

was all that I could manage to utter, seeing her petite body all over again, remembering how Misto cried so bitterly for his dead sister. Macavity looked a bit peeved that I hadn't jumped at the chance to be his Queenfriend again, but then he laughed delightedly.

"Victoria? Was that the little mite's name? Yes, it was unfortunate; I wanted the little magician but he was nowhere to be seen, so I had to make do with his sister instead. Mistoffelees needed to know that his little stunt at the Jellicle Ball cannot- and will not- happen again."

My heart pounded faster and faster throughout this explanation; so killing Victoria, taking the life of a tiny kitten, was all to get back at Misto for foiling Macavity's plans to kidnap Old Deuteronomy at the last Jellicle Ball. Scrunching my face up scornfully, I glared at him, a mixture of anger, disbelief and still a good deal of fear evident on my face; I didn't remember Macavity being so petty. But Misto had made him look stupid in front of his henchcats, and I knew he hated that more than anything else. Oh, Everlasting Cat, I'd ran out of time, Macavity had got sick of waiting.

"Well, my dear? Which is it? Come with me-or die?"

Saying I was 'scared' at that moment would be a cruel understatement; I was so petrified it hurt to inhale and I was about to pass out any minute. But, from somewhere deep, deep down inside me, I scraped up the pitiful amount of courage I had left.

"I'm not coming back with you Macavity. I don't love you. Munkustrap is my mate, now."

I squeaked, so quietly I could barely hear my own voice. Macavity's eyes darkened and he swiftly whacked me against the oven, so hard multi-coloured stars burst behind my eyes.

"So you've chosen Munkustrap over me and therefore sealed your deadly fate. I thought you were smarter than that, Demeter. _Silly_ Queen."

Growling viciously, he slammed me against the oven one more time and then threw me onto the grubby junkyard floor, where I lay uselessly, sobbing loudly and groping the large lump on the back of my head from the bang on the oven. Slowly, ominously, he stalked towards me, his eyes like a tiger's before it pounces on a wounded antelope. I was an easy kill. Praying that Munk was still relatively close by, I started shrieking one word, my mind too frazzled to think of anything else- but that one little word was enough, and could make every Jellicle shudder.

"Macavity! MACAVI-"

Yelling at me so violently I thought my eardrums might burst, he flung his arm around my nose and mouth, cutting off not only my voice but my air. He held me there, a few inches off the floor, my dangling legs flailing, my paws frantically clawing at his arm, but he held me like a vice.

"Is this how you wanted to die?"

he screamed in my ear, the claws on his free hand grating grooves down my hip.

"Is this what you wanted?"

NO! No, I didn't want to die like this, with so little mercy and dignity. Smothered in the dead of night for refusing to be with a Tom I didn't love. If Macavity had any affection left for me, he was very good at hiding it as he watched my limbs stop shaking and my face slowly turn blue. As black spots in my vision started to disorientate me, I said a silent farewell to Munk, Bomba and Jemima, the tears flowing a little faster as the realisation that I'd never see them again really registered. With what I knew was my last few seconds of vision, I focused on the bright, cream moon, watching it smile haplessly as Macavity forced the life out of me.

"Let her go!"

It was Munk; he'd come back for me, I wouldn't die, he would save me. Macavity didn't seem to think so, as he laughed, appearing to be enjoying the drama.

"If you take even one step towards me I'll snap her neck. It'll be easy, just one little twist."

Munk's mouth fell open wordlessly; Macavity had us trapped. Not only was he going to asphyxiate me, he was going to force Munk to watch too. I wanted to scream at my mate to look away, to not watch, but, of course, it was impossible. Try as I might, I couldn't send the right signals to move my arms and legs, so gesturing was out of the question too. Locking my gaze with Munk's, I did my best to express all the things I couldn't say: how much I loved him, how much I'd miss him, how amazing my life had been since I met him. Unbelievably, that was the only time I really felt true terror, of course, I had been scared, petrified, but true terror feels so much worse; it's the type of fear that makes you double over from the pain, the type that makes bile taint your tongue and your blood pump so fast you wonder if your vessels might explode.

As I hung helplessly in the moonlight, my useless limbs dangling dejectedly, seeing Munk's dread as he watched the last bit of life slowly drain out of me, feeling the vengeful arm of the Tom I'd once worshipped killing me, I wished it was quicker.

Suddenly, so suddenly it made me and Munk twitch in surprise, Macavity yowled furiously, but before I could even begin to ponder what had caused him to make such an annoyed, pained sound, I felt a huge force flinging both me an Macavity forward, knocking us flying. Blinded with fury and indignation, Macavity released me and whipped round to vent his wrath on the very courageous- and very _stupid_- attacker.

_He let go!_

Never has the air tasted so pure, so sweet, even filled with the disgusting smells of the rubbish around me. Coughing and gasping, I craned round, partly to see who my saviour was, and partly to check Macavity was still preoccupied with that individual. It took a while for my eyes to focus and adjust in the darkness, but I could eventually make out Munk, Macavity and the cat who saved me fighting in the clearing. My saviour was hidden behind the other two Toms for a while, but I soon spotted a flash of white in the moonlight; Alonzo. He must have heard all the trouble, crept up behind Macavity and threw his whole body weight against him, evidently saving my life.

But I wasn't out of danger, not by a long shot; I knew I had to hide, to run off, as I was a sitting duck lying in the middle of the clearing. I had to move, but that was easier said than done; I could barely lift my head off the ground. Rising up onto my forepaws and knees, I tried to crawl to safety, but the grubby ground voyaged up and down so dizzily I simply tumbled in a heap again, helpless. Although it was an extreme effort, I dug my claws into the soil and attempted to drag myself along, leaving a sticky trail of blood behind me. Parts of that journey I don't remember, but I eventually ended up curled up inside the pipe, the chill from the freezing metal seeping through my fur, though I barely noticed. Desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the conflict in the clearing, I tried to wriggle towards the entrance of the pipe, but my various wounds and bruises screamed in protest. My last conscious thought was that I hoped Jemima hadn't woken up with any more nightmares, as there'd be no one to comfort her.

* * *

The first thing I registered was the smell of antiseptic, so strong it made me unwittingly wrinkle my nose. If any noise was being made my ears didn't pick it up and I fleeting worried that Macavity had somehow damaged my hearing. When I tried to open my eyes, the lids kept sliding shut again, as if my lashes were made out of lead. All I wanted was too roll over and drift back into the surreal world of unconscious dreams, but as the confrontation slowly came back to me, I needed to know if Munk and Alonzo made it out okay, needed to prepare myself that I'd almost certainly caused two more deaths.

Sceptically, I opened my eyes the tiniest bit and immediately smiled happily. My head was on Munk's silver chest and he held me round the waist, so tightly I felt like I wouldn't be able to detach his arms (not that I wanted to). Dizzy with relief, I sighed shakily; one down, one to go.

"How's Alonzo?"

I barely whispered, desperate to know but terrified of the answer. Munk clutched me tighter in acknowledgement, and I could hardly breathe with the suspense.

"He's okay; got a few broken ribs and a scratch or two, but nothing serious."

My smile nearly tickled my ears; it was almost unheard of that Macavity had attacked three different cats and each one had come out of it relatively unharmed. I thought of Alonzo so fearlessly flinging himself at Macavity to save me and my heart thumped with admiration.

"I'll never be able to thank him enough."

Munk rested his chin on the top of my head, sighing.

"Neither will I."

he agreed.

"What about you? Macavity didn't hurt you, did he?"

I asked worriedly, but Munk quickly reassured me.

"I'm fine. Macavity was too preoccupied with Alonzo; I don't think he took kindly to being tackled."

Despite how petrified I'd felt at the time, I giggled as I imagined the look on Macavity's face, and Munk must have been thinking the same thing, as he grinned. Feeling fatigued, though I guessed it was around early afternoon, I closed my eyes again, comfortable on Munk's chest.

"Deme?"

"Mmmmnnn?"

"Are _you_ okay?"

As soon as Munk asked me that, I started to realise just how lousy I really felt; the cuts on my face had been stitched up (undoubtedly by Jennyanydots) but they stung horribly; my head throbbed with every movement and my limbs ached uncontrollably. Avoiding Munk's gaze, I mumbled something non-committal and he shook his head fondly, but let the subject drop.

Idly, I ran my paws up and down his arm, ruffling his fur and then smoothing it back down, a habit I've had ever since I can remember; it used to drive Bomba mad when we were kits. Munk never seemed to mind though, or, at least, simply tolerated it.

My brow pulling together, I felt a little harder and gasped in shock; Munk had a series of bumps up and down his arm, the type of bumps caused by cuts.

"Oh, Munk, Macavity _did_ hurt you! Why didn't you _say_?"

Sitting up unsteadily, I grasped his arm and tried to part his fur, wanting to assess the extent of the damage. Half-heartedly, Munk attempted to wrench his arm out of my grip, but I held on determinedly, desperate to stop his pain. Wincing, I examined the seven or eight gashes on the inside of his arm, several of them still oozing blood. At first, I thought they were simply claw wounds, not at all distinguishable from the ones on my cheek, but when I looked closer, Munk's were too clean a cut, too precise. I fingered the claw marks on my face; the edges were rough and uneven.

Focusing on the gashes nearer the inside of his elbow, I ran my paw over them carefully; those cuts had scabbed over and were on their way to forming scars. They were too far on in the healing, for a gash that size, to be only a day old; that cut had been inflicted at least a week earlier. Finally, it hit me, it all made sense and I couldn't believe I'd been so stupid and innocent; Misto's sharp words, the crying, the knife, the sneaking around, it all added up. Munk wasn't planning on hurting another cat when I'd seen him handling that knife.

He'd been planning on hurting himself.

**I've never been almost asphyxiated before, so if any part of that wasn't particularly believable, just let me know. Thanks for reading! :-)**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN-Okay, this a really short, really uneventful chapter. It's not very interesting, but I had to add it in for the rest of the story to make sense. Hope you enjoy it! Please R&R.**

**-Demeterfan**

**Shoutouts: Thank you to HumanGuineapig, Meow Miss K and Bombafan for all your lovely reviews; they made my day! **

**Disclaimer: I own none of CATS and, sadly, never will.**

**Chapter 4**

I couldn't comprehend it; Munk couldn't possibly feel so anguished, so insecure, that he'd wanted to cut himself? Of course, I knew what Misto said had hurt him, but I'd never imagined it had wriggled that far down under his skin, to the point where he started to inflict scars upon his arm.

"Munk, how could you do this to yourself?"

I half-screamed, wincing at the volume of my own voice as my head still still throbbed. Munk glanced away from my terrified eyes, the same distant, vacant expression on his face he always wore when thinking deeply.

"When did you start doing it?"

I persisted, though I was ninety-nine percent sure. Once again, I received no answer, though I was sure Munk was listening, as he was nibbling at the skin on his lip, exposing the raw, red flesh. Gripping each side of his face with my paws, I jerked his head towards mine, forcing him to look at me.

"It was after Victoria died wasn't it?"

I asked, my voice soft now. Munk nodded ever so slightly, his green eyes blank and listless.

"Munk..._why_?"

I whispered, tears springing to my eyes as I imagined Munk dragging the knife across his arm, alone and hurting inside. Munk sighed dejectedly, knowing I wasn't going to give up any time soon.

"It helps; if I feel pain like Victoria did, it might make up for my incompetence. I know it won't ever be enough, but..."

he trailed off, put out by the horror I couldn't hide.

"That's crazy! Misto doesn't blame you at all."

I screamed, and that was the truth; Misto, although crippled with saddness, went on treating us like he had before all this mess started, something I really admired him for.

"That doesn't matter; he'll never stop hurting because of Victoria's death- and I shouldn't either."

Munk cried, sounding so serious, so convincing that he almost had me believing him, too.

"You can't possibly think that's true, Munk! It wasn't your fault; you tried your best."

Grabbing his arm, I ran my paw over the scars, shaking my head.

"What happens if these get infected? Or you cut too deep and bleed to death? I can't lose you, Munk, and Jemima can't grow up without a father!"

Tears prickled my eyes, but I fought to keep them hidden, knowing my words would have even less meaning if I was sobbing. Munk stared at me sadly, and for a spine-chilling moment, I considered the possibility that he might _welcome_ death, and the thought made me start quivering with fear.

"Munk, promise me you won't cut again...please..."

I begged, beyond anything more dignified. Munk avoided my moist eyes, suddenly finding the four grubby walls of our den extremely fascinating.

"Munk, promise me!"

"I- I can't."

A sob escaped my lips, though I tried hard to smother it, so it came out strangled and made me sound hysterical.

"Why not?"

I managed to choke out, though I was afraid of the answer. Munk took a deep breath and suddenly looked me right in the eye, so I was certain he was serious.

"Because I never make a promise I can't keep."

* * *

Unable to listen anymore, I sprinted out of the den, ignoring Munk's calls; I veered from side to side as my uncoordinated body failed to understand that I was standing upright. The bright sunlight burned my eyes and made me squint, my numerous injuries yelling in pain at all the sudden movement; instinct told me I should still be lying down and resting.

Several Jellicles glanced at me worriedly, a few asking if I was okay, but I brushed them off blindly, though I knew they were only being friendly. Alonzo was perched on the big tire with Etcetera; he sat slightly lopsided so he wouldn't crush his broken ribs and he had a large gash down his face, going over his eye (the one without the black patch). Etcetera's usually excited/infatuated face was serious and solumn; she was gently brushing a timid paw over the claw mark on Alonzo's face, her bright eyes anguished. Thankfully, Alonzo didn't notice me, as I wasn't in the mood for talking and I owed him the most sincere thanks.

Eventually, mostly to get out of the piercing sunlight, I slumped inside the metal pipe, the entrance of which still stained with my dried blood. Slapping my forehead with the heel of my paw, I was so annoyed with myself I actually groaned out loud, the exasperated sound bouncing of the metal and echoing my frustration. I couldn't believe I'd been so stupid with Munk. Yes, I'd been torn up with worry, with pain for him, but screaming at someone as emotionally fragile as Munk was at the moment was the worst possible thing to do. I should have talked to him properly, gently, I should found out how deep his problems were and promised to help him deal with it. Why did I never handle anything _right_?

One thing Munk said kept twirling round and round in my head, as if trapped in a washing machine:

'...if I feel pain like Victoria did, it might make up for my incompetence.'

So Munk was cutting himself as a sort of punishment for, in his opinion, letting Victoria die. I imagined what must have been going on in his head, how he must have almost gone mad with guilt until he couldn't take it anymore. I wondered how he felt that first, momentous time he cut; was it satisfying? Did he yell out? Was he shocked? Was he so frazzled by then, he simply stared at the bright blood pooling on his silver fur, dazed? Only one thing in my groggy, whirling mind made sense: I had no idea how to help him.

Suddenly, someone else rushed into the pipe, ducking into the shadows so hastily we banged heads.

"Ouch!"

"Watch out!"

Adding the new bump on my forehead to my growing bunch of injuries, I glared at the gloomy figure in front of me, groaning inwardly; it was Tugger. Everlasting Cat, why him? It could have been anyone but him!

"What are you doing here?"

I spat, not even attempting to hide the loathing in my voice. Infuriatingly, he laughed, like he always did when I showed how much I hated him.

"You always sound like you're about to claw my eyes out, Deme!"

It was certainly tempting.

"I needed a place to hide; Electra and Jemima wouldn't leave me alone."

he explained smugly, fluffing up his ridiculous mane. I scowled and growled involuntarily.

"I told you to keep away from my daughter!"

"I can't help it if she come up to _me_."

he said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm sorry you're so popular."

I said bitterly. Tugger struck a pose in the confined space, sending himself up.

"Anyway, what are _you_ doing here? I thought you were curled up with Munk?"

For a reason I couldn't comprehend, the mention of Munk made all the fear and sadness and worry fall upon me like a lead weight and I spontaneously did something I never, ever wanted someone like Tugger to see: I burst into tears.

Tugger seemed taken aback; he simply sat watching me sob pitifully next to him, his usually smug face looking somewhat concerned. Awkwardly, he patted my shoulder a little, but quickly stopped after remembering I hated him. Weirdly, I wanted him to continue; I ached for comfort, for contact, even the strange, reluctant kind from my enemy. Sniffing disdainfully, I swiped a scornful paw over the water on my face, though fresh tears rushed to replace the old ones.

"What's the matter?"

he asked, sounding like he wasn't sure I would allow him to find out that information.

"It's nothing."

I replied stupidly, as it was obvious I was seriously bothered about something; I usually did my level best not to break down in front of Tugger. He sighed a little.

"Look, I know we're not exactly close, so why don't you got talk to Munk abo- what's wrong _now_?"

The mention of Munk had set me off howling again, so I wasn't surprised when Tugger hastily put two and two together.

"It's Munk, isn't it? What's he done?"

Tugger cried, sounding eager to get the dirt on his seemingly perfect older brother. Ha, as if I was ever going to tell him! Tugger was definitely not a trustworthy confident, quite the opposite, and I'd never trust him with anything, even something that wasn't a painful, deadly secret like Munk's self-harming. Stubbornly, I crossed my arms over my chest and looked away from Tugger, indicating I wasn't going to say a word. Tugger shook my shoulder imploringly.

"Come on, Deme, you've got to tell me!"

he whined, still not taking the situation seriously, which made anger burn through me. Shaking my head, I silently scolded myself for even raising Tugger's suspicions; I needed to put as much distance between him and me as possible, then I'd seek out Bomba and she'd tell me the best way to deal with Munkustrap.

Dodging Tugger as best I could, I made a dash for the entrance of the pipe, but Tugger was much too quick for me, grasping my shoulders and hauling me back.

"Get off me!"

I screamed, wriggling violently to get free. Tugger forced me to sit back down, keeping me a virtual prisoner. His face was now deadly serious.

"Demeter, tell me what Munk has done! NOW! I've got a right to know, I'm his brother!"

"I'm not telling you anything!"

Tugger scoffed scornfully, rolling hazel eyes.

"Do you know what, I don't think anything terrible has happened to Munk; he's probably just rebuked you for nearly getting yourself killed by Macavity. It's nothing, is it?"

Tugger started to crawl to the entrance of the pipe, his features relaxed again. I was outraged, burning with fury and indignation- and suddenly my mouth started working before my brain could catch up.

"I don't think self-harming is quite nothing, is it?"

I called after him, regretting my words as soon as they sailed past my lips. Stopping in his tracks, I heard Tugger's horrified gasp, and we both stood frozen for a minute or more. When Tugger next spoke, his voice was hoarse and cracked.

"Self-harming?"

I had to blink and swallow several times to keep myself from weeping again, so my next word was barely audible.

"Yes..."

Tugger didn't turn round to face me- maybe he had tears in his eyes, or maybe he couldn't bear to look at me- and I heard him take several deep breaths. Without uttering a single word, Tugger shuffled back and half fell back next to me, running a quivering paw over his face. His face was closed, withdrawn; I hoped he wasn't angry.

"It's not Munk's fault-"

I started, but Tugger nodded slowly, pressing his lips together.

"I know."

We sat in silence for a while, somehow bonded over our worry and concern.

"Why? Why is he doing that to himself?"

Tugger gasped, not sounding like he was asking me anymore; he seemed to be addressing the metal pipe.

"I think he sees it as a punishment, for letting Victoria die."

I explained softly.

"But he _didn't_."

"I _know_."

We both sighed simultaneously, utterly powerless and unbelievably helpless. Desperate, I looked at Tugger hopefully; they may not get on, but he _was_ Munk's brother, maybe he'd know the best way to tackle the problem.

"Tugger...what should I do?"

I sounded like a tiny kitten, lost, confused and very, very scared. Slowly, Tugger wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders comfortingly; at first, I stiffened, it felt so peculiar, cuddling up with the cat I'd loathed for so long, but after a while I relaxed against him, clinging onto the only consolation I had.

"I don't know, Deme."

Tears poured down my cheeks, though I fought not to make a sound, reluctant to disturb the eerie tranquillity; I'm not sure if Tugger cried with me but he certainly sniffed a lot.

"I'm sorry..."

I wept, snuggling in closer to him.

"I'm sorry I let him hurt himself."

Tugger drew in his breath sharply and squeezed me a little tighter, though my bruises protested.

"You tried, Deme. I'm guessing that's why Macavity was able to catch you."

All of a sudden, he leapt up, forgetting that we were in a restricted area and banging his head on the top of the pipe. If any pain registered, Tugger was amazing at refusing to show it, but any fool could see he was seriously distressed; the raw fear I'd never seen before in his eyes scared the life out of me.

"What's wrong? What's happened?"

Tugger gritted his teeth furiously, practically tearing his fur out in frustration.

"Macavity!"

was all he could manage to utter. I was so terrified I whipped round wildly, thinking Macavity was somewhere close by.

"What about Mac-"

Then the ball dropped; Macavity had been there that night, he'd fought with Munk after I'd passed out. What if he'd noticed the scars, or perhaps felt them during the fight? Everlasting Cat, he may have even witnessed Munk cutting himself before he spotted me, lurking unobserved behind a pile of rubbish. Surely Macavity wouldn't have missed something so significant, so powerful. If Macavity had that information-and there was a very good chance he had- I knew for a fact he would concoct a vicious, twisted way to use it against Munk and the rest of the Jellicles. I thought of how Munk had reacted when his actions had resulted in bad luck for just one cat; what would he do if Macavity used his self-harming to terrorise the whole tribe? And, on top of that, how would the rest of Jellicles react to learning that their protector was so unstable?

There was no doubt anymore; I had to, as much as I didn't want to, seek out Macavity and stop him from hurting Munk. I had to offer him something he couldn't refuse; something that he'd wanted ever since I left him, something that would leave me bloodied and broken, the only think he'd accept. Carefully, I planned what I was going to do, though it made me heave with disgust.

I had to do it... for Munk... for Munk...


	5. Chapter 5

**AN-This is a more eventful chapter, so hopefully it will be more interesting. As a warning, there is a lot of violence in this chapter, so if that's not your thing, don't read it. I hope you enjoy it. Please R&R.**

**-Demeterfan**

**Shoutouts: Thank you to HumanGuineapig, Meow Miss K and Bombafan for all your lovely reviews. :-)**

**Disclaimer: I own none of CATS, as much as I'd like to.**

**Chapter 5**

Of course, I didn't mention my plans to anyone, not even Bomba; they'd tell I was crazy, that I wasn't thinking clearly, that I should let it all blow over. I _knew_ I was acting crazy, I felt like my brain was full of fog, but I also knew it wouldn't blow over. Macavity wasn't going to let an opportunity like this slip through his paws, and it was only a matter of time before Munk sliced a vein- whether it would be accidental or planned, I don't know and, honestly, don't want to think about.

Leaving the safety of the junkyard was daunting enough, but with the added fear of where I would be going and left me practically paralized with fear. For several minutes I stood tethered to the gates, wondering if I should dash back and drag Bomba along with me after all. When I finally got moving I was so petrified I couldn't concentrate on a single thing, so I kept ambling down the wrong street and not noticing until I was completely lost. Several times I blundered into humans I simply didn't notice and they all swore furiously and kicked me into the gutter, hurting my body and my pride.

Although it took me almost an hour, I eventually made it to Macavity's lair, an old, abandoned prison, stood erect and formal behind a fence of forbidding iron bars, though us cats can easily squeeze through. The humans used to be constantly campaigning to get it demolished and turned into something that made people smile instead of walk hastily in the other direction, but it wasn't seen as a priority and eventually everyone just forgot about it. Macavity adopted the prison for convenience; the ready made cells perfect for his own use, the offices on the upper level useful as a place to plot or scheme.

Getting in was a problem; I couldn't simply skip through the front gate as two henchcats were lurking on guard, one of whom I recognised from when I still worshipped the soil Macavity walked on. Leaping into bushes and behind cars, I scoured the perimeter of the fence, peering at the vast grey building; lots of guards and hardly any obvious entrances. But, just as I was about to make a mad sprint for the front gate after all, I spotted a tiny, square window an inch off the floor, probably the window for the cells in the basement.

Scanning the building carefully, I checked for any prying eyes or nosy guards, but the area was deserted. Steeling myself, I raced up to the fence, weaved through the rusty bars, reached the window without being observed (as far as I knew, anyway) and wriggled through it, scratching my hips horribly, praying that no henchcats were lurking on the other side.

Slamming onto the cold, concrete floor, the first thing that hit me was the smell; chilly, musty air mixed with urine and vomit, so strong I had to bury my nose in my fur, eyes streaming. My ears picked up a dull monotone of moans, the odd wail, sobbing and one continuous scream, on and on. Cats were stuffed in the cells on each side of the long, gloomy corridor, all Queens, most around my age, a few older, several younger. I'd known the prison like the back of my hand when I lived there full time, but Macavity had never taken me to these horrific, squalid cells; I'd have probably ran away from him a lot earlier if I'd have ever gotten an eyeful (and nose-full) of this place.

Glancing back at the window, I seriously considered clambering out into the safety of the sunshine and never returning, but the image of Munk and his tell-tale scars urged me forward. Though I didn't want to, I couldn't help staring into each and every cell, absorbing each terrifying image, a few sticking in my mind: the petite calico vomiting blood into her paws; the white and brown Queen feverishly licking a motionless kitten; the tiny kitten no bigger than Jemima clutching a filthy toy mouse like a heroin addict treasures a needle; the ginger Queen laughing hysterically and scratching the wall so hard her paws dripped blood to her wrists. Horror after horror, each getting a little worse every time, though I hadn't thought that possible.

As I studied the anguished, blank or mad face of each cat, I wondered if their families knew where they were. Didn't they have Tomfriends who adored them so much they'd even challenge Macavity to get them back? Didn't they have mothers fighting for their daughters? Didn't they have siblings searching for their sisters? Didn't they have kittens eager to be reunited with their mothers? Were these cats forgotten about; mourned for a few weeks and then considered dead?

Near the end of the corridor, I wasn't really paying attention, my eyes trained on a butterscotch Queen who was yanking out great clumps of the fur on her arm, when a paw grabbed me from inside a cell, slamming me against the metal bars. Shrieking a little, I tried to wrench myself free, but my captor had a grip as strong as the cell that contained her. She grinned wildly, her eyes glinting like strobe lights.

"Golden fur! You're a golden angel sent by the Everlasting Cat! Use your powers to set us free!"

she commanded, shaking me violently in her grasp.

"Excuse me?"

From deeper in the cell, I heard a friendly laugh at my confusion and distress, and a red an black Queen appeared out of the shadows, prising the other cat's paw off me.

"That's Natalya; she's dottled. Half the Queens here are dottled, maybe it helps."

the red and black Queen said, nodding at me.

"So, what's a pretty Queen like doing in a place as repulsive as this?"

she asked, raising her eyebrows quizzically. I hesitated, not sure whether I could confide in this Queen that I had just met and knew absolutely nothing about; she may well alert Macavity the moment I turn my back. But there was a reassuring hint of trust in her eyes, and I couldn't exactly strip her of my friendship; it must be unbearable, stuck in a squalid torture chamber full of sobbing Queens, with only a mad cat for company.

"I'm here to see Macavity."

I whispered, making sure that information only reached her ears. She shook her head disapprovingly.

"Rather you than me, Goldie. I'd keep away from Macavity if I were you; he eats Queens like us for breakfast."

Sighing pitifully, I started running my paws through my bedraggled headfur, doing my best to keep calm.

"I know. But this is something I have to do."

I mumbled, and the Queen nodded understandingly.

"Why are you here? Why does he keep you all captive like this?"

I asked, scanning the cells again, but quickly tearing my gaze away when I saw a young cat sob over an unconscious Queen.

"He keeps us for fun."

"For fun?"

"You know, for our bodies."

I gasped, unable to believe it. The Queen had spoken with little emotion and her face still stayed open and amicable, but he paws started to shake ever so slightly.

"He keeps _all_ of you for that?"

I asked in disbelief and the Queen shrugged.

"He's a Tom who likes a lot on offer."

she said matter of factly, though she couldn't hide a shudder that ran through her.

"But what about..."

I gestured delicately to Natalya.

"The old cats? Well, he keeps us young ones for our bodies, but he keeps the ones that are past it for secrecy."

"Secrecy?"

The Queen raised her eyebrows again, laughing.

"You don't know much, do you, Goldie? He doesn't want word to get out about what he does to us. If we never leave, the secret doesn't either. Simple."

My mouth fell open wordlessly; my brain was having a hard time processing so much horror and terror in such a short time.

"He never lets you out?"

I cried, then scoffed at my own ignorant stupidity. "Of course he doesn't."

Suddenly remembering the reason I was in the awful place, I glanced surreptitiously at the heavy metal door.

"I've got to go now. I'll come back this way...a-and maybe visit you again, if I get out of this okay."

I said, and the Queen's face lit up so much it nearly broke my heart. Gripping my paw so hard she left bruises, she smiled at me longingly and nodded goodbye.

"Good luck, Goldie. I'll pray to the Everlasting Cat for your safety."

she said, and I grinned, grateful for any possible glimmer of help. I turned and made for the door, but heard the red and black Queen calling me again.

"Hey, Goldie, my name's Chila. What's yours? Names are the only things I can hang on to these days."

"My name's Demeter."

Chila smiled, her teeth looking too bright and clean in the gloom and dirt.

"Demeter. I'll remember that."

* * *

Chatting to Chila wasn't one of my better ideas; after I left her, I was more terrified than ever. I've never been good at handling fear, I hate the gut-wrenching feeling, but it never mattered because Munk would simply hold me close or stroke my cheek lovingly and I'd instantly calm down and feel safe again. He knew how to handle things. But Munk couldn't handle anything anymore and I was stuck in the place I loathed more than anything, all alone and practically hyperventilating.

Images of those awful cells kept flashing behind my eyes, making me squeal. Obviously, Macavity had kept me captive before, but in a single, padded cell, which, although lonely, forbidding and solitary, was clean and warm in the winter. I thought of all those other cats, squashed into foul, crowded cells, waiting for Macavity to come and mess around with them for his own amusement. No wonder half of them went mad; I know I would.

Although I hadn't set foot in the place for over a year, I somehow managed to navigate my way down the endless, echoing corridors, each door so heavy I had to shove with my whole body weight, the metal groaning against the floor as I forced it open. Several henchhcats passed me on my way, but they all left me alone, assuming that I was meant to be there if I hadn't been stopped before that point.

The second floor wasn't as damp and dingy, so therefore more bearable; part of the mauve carpet still gripped determinedly to the floor, though large chunks were missing, the edges frayed and sticking up at odd angles. Rather large spiders occupied each corner of the room and dust hung thickly in the air, making breathing difficult.

There were lots more henchcats on this level, mostly Toms but the odd Queen,too; one Tom was covered in bloody gashes, shaking feverishly, and when another asked what in Everlasting's name had happened to him, the injured Tom simply dissolved into tears. It really opened my eyes; I'd been sure anyone who even considered working for Macavity was evil to the core, but now I guessed most might be just as petrified of him as I was. Maybe they'd just got stuck in a position they couldn't get out of, like I had in the past.

None of the henchcats even glanced in my direction, let alone questioned me, until I noticed a completely black Tomcat glaring, his steely grey eyes so fierce I could practically feel him burning a hole through me. Lowering my own eyes, I walked a little faster, feeling my face flush as I shuffled past, knowing he was still staring but not wanting to glance up to check. I could tell by the way all the other henchcats kept their wary distance, by the way a hush fell over the corridor, that this Tom was important- and most likely lethal.

Even so, I prayed that he'd just let me pass without questioning my motives to do so; maybe he'd mistake me for a new henchcat, like all the others. Predictably, luck wasn't on my side and the menacing Tom slammed me against the wall, knocking all the air out of my lungs and making my healing wounds yell out.

"Who are you and why are you here?"

he barked out, his unnaturally white teeth inches from my face.

_Give him a fake name!_

"I'm... Mitsuki."

I squeaked, and then did my best to gather what little courage I had left.

"And I'm here to see Macavity."

Much to my satisfaction, I sounded a lot more confident than I felt, but the black Tom growled dangerously, clearly not impressed.

"No you're not! Macavity doesn't have time for the likes of you. Get out!"

He gripped my arms much too tightly and began to drag me back down the corridor, making me stumble in his haste. Fear gave way to desolation and I found myself resisting, struggling violently against the remorseless grasp of the black Tom.

"Please, I have to see him! I have something he'll want!"

I pleaded, my voice high with desperation and panic. The Tom scoffed scornfully, not even acknowledging me with an answer. Frantically, I glanced at each poised henchcat, silently begging them to help me, but most just looked away ashamedly, a few muttering their apologies.

Suddenly, something inside me snapped; I couldn't sit and wonder if Macavity did, in fact, know about Munk's self-harming, couldn't just ponder how and when he'd use it against us. Twisting round viciously, I scratched the black Tom down the face and then quickly tried to wrench myself out of his grasp. I wasn't strong enough to floor him completely, but the shock caused him to stagger backwards a little, and I took my chance and flew out of his grip, running hard down the corridor. None of the other henchcats tried to restrain me, most staring open mouthed and whispering to one another.

"That Queen is mad!"

"Who _is_ she? I've never seen her before."

"She said her name's Mitsuki."

"Whoever she is, she must be crazy; she scratched Jabez, right down the face!"

"Poor Queen; he'll kill her for sure."

The black Tomcat, who I now knew was called Jabez, tore after me, those steely grey eyes alight with fury at being humiliated in front of so many other henchcats. Praying that I'd remembered accurately where Macavity's office was, I flung the door open without knocking, making the flame coloured cat start. Hastily, I opened my mouth, but felt someone yank my head back, cutting me off.

"I'm so sorry, sir."

Jabez said, and drew out a claw, ready to slit my throat. Gasping painfully, I prepared myself for death for the second time in just a few days, thinking that Chila must not be praying very hard for my safety, but Macavity held up a restricting paw and Jabez hesitated reluctantly.

"What does she want, Jabez?"

he asked, his voice amused, like he was enjoying himself. Jabez slowly lowered his claw from my throat and I breathed out, though I still didn't dare move.

"Apparently, she's got something you'll want. She says her name's Mitsuki."

Macavity raised his eyebrows and smirked.

"Then she's a liar."

he said, chuckling. Jabez glared at me, loathing fierce in his eyes now he knew I'd lied to him. Macavity must have picked up on his hate and the frosty tension in the air, because he made dismissive waves with his paw.

"Thank you, Jabez. I'll determine whether she has anything that interests me."

Shooting me one last murderous glance, Jabez grudgingly obeyed, shutting the heavy door a little louder than necessary. Macavity leaned on his desk, which was tattooed with chips and claw marks, grinning at me, as I fidgeted like a mischievous human child before a grave headmaster.

"Changed your mind about returning with me, Demeter? Or have you come to try and bribe me into keeping you broken Tomfriend's little secret?"

he mocked, his voice so patronizing I wanted to slap him. I didn't say a word, but, of course, we both knew the answer; why else would I traipse all the way to his menacing hide out, stagger through the horrors of his cells, attack his most ruthless henchcat? Macavity shook his head almost fondly, smiling mockingly.

"Oh, Deme, when will you learn? Believe me, you couldn't possibly offer me anything, no matter how bountiful, that could make me keep what I found out taboo. I wonder how the other Jellicles will react when they learn their protector is self-harming?"

Heart thumping, I bit my lip at the thought, so hard the rusty taste of blood tainted my mouth and pooled on my tongue.

"If you accept my offer, you must promise to let me go afterwards and never mention Munk's problem again. Do we have a deal?"

I stated, making sure my voice stayed emotionless, almost robotic. Macavity raised his eyebrows, looking to be taking me seriously at last. He tapped his claws on the desk thoughtfully.

"We'll see what this offer is, shall we?"

he said expectantly.

Say it, go on, for Munk. Opening and shutting my mouth uselessly, I tried to force the words out, but my tongue had tied itself into the trickiest of knots. What I was about to do went against every instinct; it wasn't right, it wasn't fair. But if it protected Munk, maybe it wasn't completely despicable.

"I'm waiting, Demeter. What do you have to offer me?"

I wanted to burst into tears, I wanted to vomit, I wanted dash out of the prison and never look back, not ever. Instead, I drew myself up and muttered the two words that could very well save my ailing mate, but may also destroy me emotionally in the process.

"My body."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:Hello! Sorry that I took a while to update, I had a French exam and history coursework; ugghh. Anyway, there is some mild sexual themes in this, but I tried not to make it too graphic. So, please read and review and I hope you enjoy it. **

**-Demeterfan**

**Shoutouts: A big thank you to HumanGuineapig, Meow Miss K, Bombafan, Emily Doreen and littlemissdemeter for all your lovely reviews :-)**

**Disclaimer: I own none of CATS, as much as I'd like to.**

**Chapter 6**

At first, Macavity simply stared at me, mouth hanging open; I'd never seen him speechless before. Then a smile slowly slid across his face.

He accepted; of course he did, that wasn't the hard part. Although I knew it was despicable and selfish, I almost wished Macavity had refused my offer; at least then I could say to myself that I'd tried and would still be able to keep my dignity.

I imagined he'd take me somewhere more private and secluded, somewhere that meant I could keep the precious little decorum I had left, but he simply pinned me down on the floor of his office, his malicious smile practically tickling his ears.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted this, my dear?"

he whispered, his voice like silk.

_Do you have any idea how long I've been trying to avoid this? And now I'm just handing it to you. I bet you're loving this, aren't you?_

Biting my lip, I focused my gaze on the grubby ceiling, counting the blotchy water stains, trying to block out what was happening. It was horrific, repulsive, disgusting; I'd spent half my life painstakingly dodging Macavity, not wanting to be subjected to this, and it felt so horribly wrong.

_It's for Munk... think of everything he's done for you._

Squeezing my eyes shut, I thought of the time I twisted my ankle when out hunting for Jemima's dinner and Munk carried me home; I thought of the time just after we mated when we watched the sun rise under a tree of pink blossom; I thought of the time I went out with him on night duty and we both eventually ended up fast asleep on each other (Alonzo still teases him about this); I thought of all the times I'd been plagued with nightmares and he'd comforted me, no matter how many times I disturbed him in the night. He deserved so much better than me; surely I could do this one little thing for him? Why was that so hard?

I knew why: I was terrified, so scared I thought I might pass out on the dirty carpet. I felt so _dirty_, like I was betraying Munk, and having Macavity so close to me still made me prickle with alarm.

Time crawled by unbelievably slowly, spitefully forcing me to endure Macavity's torture as long as possible, but eventually he stopped, having either taken pity on me or simply got bored of manipulating me; my guess is the latter. Propping myself up shakily on my elbows, I attempted to wriggle free, but Macavity was still on top of me and I got the feeling I was being restrained.

"You've got what you wanted now. Let me go!"

I'd set out to sound firm but I was so wretched and repulsed my voice was just a tiny mouse squeak. Macavity didn't adjust his position in the slightest, instead he picked up a large paperweight from his desk. Wordlessly, he held it in his paw for a while, as if testing the weight.

"I don't think I can do that, my dear."

Macavity said quietly, not looking me in the eye. My heart started pounding so hard I was afraid it would burst through my chest and spatter my chest crimson.

"No...NO! You promised! You promised me!"

I shrieked, wriggling frantically, but he just pressed an arm over my chest, pinning my shoulders down.

"I did no such thing! I'd never break a promise to you, my dear. Luckily, you never made me promise."

He paused, twirling the paperweight in his paw, a mock-coy expression on his face; an expression I'd once thought incredibly cute.

"I'd close your eyes if I were you; it'll probably hurt less."

he advised, raising the paperweight menacingly in anticipation.

"No please! Don't do this! _Please!_"

I was silenced by a heavy blow against my temples, my head banging against the floor as the world slipped into darkness.

* * *

Pounding. A deafening, throbbing pounding in my head, threatening to consume my aching mind. The pain in my temples was unbearably raw and a sharp stab in the bottom of my back made me shudder as the recollection of my ordeal with Macavity slowly edged back into my mind. Eyelids heavy, I forced myself to look around, curious as to where Macavity had dumped me. I shivered a little, as the floor was icy cold.

"Natalya, she's awake! Thank the Everlasting Cat, I thought we'd lost her. Are you all right, Goldie?"

Whipping round abruptly, I found myself gazing into the concerned eyes of Chila and the overly bright eyes of Natalya.

"No..."

I whispered, unable to comprehend it. Eyes wide, I slowly turned away from Chila...just to make sure...

"No! No, _no_, NO!"

I scrutinized the firm, forbidding iron bars with horror, as if they were writhing with venomous vipers; I was staring at them from the inside. Macavity had locked me up again, only this time in the filthy, squalid cells with all the battered, broken cats. The cats he used for pleasure, the cats he abused for their bodies.

Slamming against the metal, I viciously punched at the bars, again and again, loosing my grip on reality. I knew I was acting crazy, but I _felt_ like I was loosing my mind; I loathed feeling trapped- I couldn't even curl up in the boot of the TSE-1- and this was my very worst nightmare. Beating so hard my paws stung and blood dripped to my wrists, I burst into noisy tears, shrieking blue murder.

"Let me out! LET ME OUT! LET ME O-"

"Goldie, calm down!"

Suddenly, I felt strong-but gentle- arms pulling me back, cradling my bloody paws, her kindly voice soothing. She examined my crimson crusted paws carefully as I wept in her grasp, incapable of anything else. Natalya watched from a cautious distance, unnerved by all the noise I was making.

"Don't Goldie, you're hurting yourself!"

Chila cried. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and I sobbed on her chest pitifully.

"I w-want to go h-home!"

I gulped, sounding like an overly tired kitten. Chila smiled sadly, shaking her head.

"So do I, Goldie."

she whispered, her voice cracking with empathy for me. This made me weep even more, feeling guilty and selfish.

"I want my Jemima! And Munkustrap!"

I wailed into the fur on her chest, as if she could conjure them up as easily as Mistoffelees. Chila wrinkled her nose questioningly, looking confused.

"Who, Goldie?"

"My name's not Goldie!"

I yelled, pushing her away, suddenly blinded with fury. How could she put such a light-hearted outlook on this awful place, calling me by little nicknames? Didn't she understand that I'd lost my family forever?

But, although I didn't want to admit it, I knew I wasn't really angry at Chila. I wanted someone to blame because I was in such deep despair, just like Mistoffelees did to Munk that led to me being here in the first place. Ashamed, I turned away, not wanting to be horrible. Chila pulled me towards her again, and I leaned against her gratefully, doing my best to stop my kitten-like whimpering.

"I know; you're name's Demeter. I _said_ I'd remember. Now, who are Jemima and Munkustrap?"

Chila persisted cautiously.

A lump rose in my throat again and tears sprang to my eyes as I ached to hold them both in my arms for one last time. Would I ever see their faces again? Would I ever tenderly comb Jemima's headfur again? Would I ever see Munk's sensible smile again, or giggle as he rolled his eyes at Tugger 'strutting his stuff'?

"Munkustrap is my mate and Jemima is my little kitten. And- and I'm going to miss them so much..."

I whispered, gulping back my sorrow, For once, Chila seemed at a loss for words, and when I craned round to look at her, her face was screwed up with pain.

"You have a mate and a daughter?"

she asked, her voice coming out like someone was squeezing her windpipe. I nodded wordlessly.

"You- you have a _family_?"

"Yes, we lived in a particular tribe with lots of other cats. I love them all, except maybe Tugger, who has an ego so big it has its own orbit. Oh, Everlasting Cat, I even miss _him_!"

I cried half wondering where the sudden change in Chila had come from and half hoping that Tugger wasn't flirting with my Jemima. Chila sniffed and swallowed painfully before speaking.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"One sister- Bombalurina"

I whispered sadly, wishing I could hear her voice one more time. I gazed at Chila properly.

"Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making me talk about them? It's not as if I'll ever see Bomba again, or Munk, or my little Jemmie..."

I babbled, my eyes shiny with water.

"I had a family once."

Chila blurted, out of nowhere.

"A mother, a mate, two kittens."

Swiping a paw over the wet fur on my face, I knelt up properly, grasping Chila's arm.

"Where are they? What are their names? They could be in the place I came from."

I knew it was highly unlikely, but maybe, just maybe, Chila's kits had made it to the Jellicle junkyard. They'd recognize how similar mine and Chila's disappearances were, put two and two together and come looking for us. Reassured somewhat, I smiled eagerly at Chila, hope acting like a beam of light through the gloom and dismay. Chila smiled back, ever so sadly.

"I can't remember, Goldie. I can't even remember if my kits were Toms or Queens."

My mouth fell open; Chila was a little older than myself and she wasn't mad like poor Natalya or easily spooked and confused like me. Yet she'd forgotten her own family, so much so that she couldn't even decipher the sexes of her kittens. An icy hand danced up and down my spine, I loved my family more than anything else in the world; what would I have left if Munk, Jemmie and Bomba faded away? All of a sudden, Chila grasped my face in her paws, pulling me closer until we were nose to nose and I could see the flecks of sapphire blue in her gooseberry green eyes.

"Hang onto your family, Demeter."

she cried, hot tears pouring down her cheeks, though she made no attempt to hide them or wipe them away.

"Don't let them slip away like I did! Remember what they look like, remember they things they do that make you smile. Just don't ever forget them because...I'm sure Jemima won't forget her mummy."

Bursting into tears again, I shook my head wildly, detaching Chila's paws.

"I won't forget! I won't let the wounds heal, I won't let the scars disappear. I'll make sure the pain stays raw, stays fresh, so I'll know they're still in my mind. I'll chant their names over and over every night. I'll-"

Chila placed a paw to my lips, indicating I should shut up.

"I won't forget...I won't..."

Chila smiled sweetly.

"I know you won't. You're pure; you won't forget them."

she said, patting my shoulder admiringly. The word 'pure' made me cringe, knowing that couldn't be further from the truth. Hesitating, I wondered if it would be wise to confide in Chila; I still didn't know her very well and therefore couldn't entirely trust her, but she had a way of saying things that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. I think if an atomic bomb landed on our prison and left everyone mutilated and radioactive, all Chila would have to do was assure me we'd survive and call me Goldie and I'd believe it.

Unable to cope with a decision while I was still so crippled with sadness, misery overwhelmed me again and I started weeping for the third time in under ten minutes. Chila gasped as the fresh tears cascaded down my cheeks, misunderstanding.

"Don't cry, Goldie! I shouldn't have said that, of course you'll remember your family."

she gabbled, smoothing down my ruffled headfur.

"No, no, it's not that. I'm not pure Chila, not anymore!"

I sobbed, burying my face in my paws, overcome with shame.

"_Why?_"

"I gave myself to Macavity."

Chila's face lit up with fury and she yelled out, like a wounded animal.

"Are you _mad_, Goldie?"

she squealed, and Natalya muttered 'mad, mad, mad' though I don't think she had the slightest idea what we were talking about.

"I had to. It-it was for Munkustrap."

"Your _mate_ told you to do this?"

Chila's eyes were full of horror and loathing, clearly thinking Munk was a vicious, controlling Tom who forced me to go let Macavity take advantage of me for his own enjoyment.

"No, it's not like that! Macavity knew something about Munk that had to stay a deadly secret; if it somehow got out, it could hurt our whole tribe, so..."

I hurriedly tried to explain but Chila was nodding now, smiling wryly.

"So you offered Macavity something he couldn't refuse in exchange for his silence."

she finished, looking touched. "I hope he knows how much you love him, Goldie."

I sighed longingly, wishing I could tell Munk how my world revolved around him, how I was sorry for doing something so stupid, I just couldn't bear to see him hurt himself.

"Oh Chila, so do I."

I whispered, bottom lip wobbling a little. Biting my lip to stop it quivering, I forced myself to ask something that I had been trying to push to the back of my mind for a while.

"Chila...? How long have you been here?"

Chila had to think hard, her eyebrows knitting together with concentration; a few times she muttered to herself, as if counting in her head.

"About... two and a half years. I think?"

she finally answered, though she sounded uncertain.

"Two _years?_"

Heart racing again, I imagined how I'd be if I spent two and a half years rotting away in a tiny, filthy cell, with the ominous fear of the wrath of Macavity and Jabez hanging over my head; I'd be barely coherent, let alone reasonably emotionally stable, like Chila appeared to be.

For the first time, I scrutinized her slim frame properly, my eyes free of tears and sorrow, and I noticed that her body, although not skeletal, was ragged from years of abuse, her ribs easy to count; I noticed her fur, although free of tangles, was crusted with dirt and didn't shine; I noticed her eyes, although full of feeling, didn't glint, they were as dull and lifeless as a dolls. All those tiny little details I'd failed to acknowledge before; things that told me she'd given up on life long ago. She'd stopped dreaming of seeing the sky again, had let the memories she treasured slip away, had given up fighting. How could she put on such an indifferent air for me? How could she shine so convincingly whilst hiding all those wounds so well?

"You're very brave, Chila."

Chila burst out laughing, though I'd meant it seriously.

"Don't be daft, you soppy thing!"

she giggled, ruffling my headfur as if I was Jemima's age; I knew it would be a waste of breath and energy trying to convince her.

After that, we barely spoke for the rest of that first endless, horrific day, but I don't think she ever let go of my paw and I clung on like she was my life line. Chila's forgotten family haunted me, swinging around in my head and making me unaccountably dizzy. Didn't her kittens remember their mother? Didn't they ever wonder what happened to her? I hadn't thought anyone could properly forget their own mum; mine and Bomba's had died before my eyes were fully open, but if I focused painstakingly hard, I could just about feel her wet tongue grooming me, taste the sweet milk from her body, feel her warm, solid weight beside me.

Those tiny memories kept me going, because I knew that, at one point and no matter how briefly, I was loved. Bomba remembered more than I did, so she wouldn't talk about her at all, the pain still too strong; it was me who explained where our mother was when Bomba carted me off to the junkyard as kittens, it was me who told Alonzo and Munkustrap (kittens themselves at that point) that our mum was dead, it was me who, years later, tentatively informed Jemima why she didn't have a grandmother.

I was a little reassured; my mother had glittered dimly in the back of my mind like starlight, and if I could remember her, surely I could hang on to the memory of my family?

_I'd always remember... I had to..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello! Once again, Demeter is still incarcerated so there may be mild references of not-so-nice themes. There will be death at the end of this chapter, too. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed!**

**-Demeterfan**

**Disclaimer: I do not own CATS, and the lullaby that Natalya sings came from a school production I did, so I don't own that either.**

**Chapter 7 **

Time crawled by, days,weeks morphed into one long endless blob until I hardly knew when one day began and another ended. Hours could drag on for years, as if I was trapped in some alternate reality where time morphed into one continuous chunk and apparently happiness didn't exist anymore.

Chila was my only source of joy; she was like a determined little lantern that could never be extinguished, our only source of hope. As the days slowly passed, I began to feel as close to her as I did to Bomba. Jabez came once a day to feed us a meagre meal, but after I attacked, humiliated and lied to him he'd taken an active disliking to me and never brought me a scrap. But, thankfully for me, Chila always split her mouse or fish in half and handed me the bigger half. Whenever I tried to protest about that Chila simply shook her head and said with a note of finality:

"Oh, eat it, Goldie, you need some meat on your bones."

Although I hadn't expected to, I even began to feel closer to Natalya, with her manic grin and overly bright eyes, as if there was a torch lodged in her brain. At first, her mental instability and strange nature unnerved me, but something that occurred that first, horrific night I was incarcerated made me see her in a whole new light.

**[Flashback]**

_Darkness. Black, thick-looking darkness that made it impossible to see anything except for pair upon pair of glowing yellow eyes, though that wasn't particularly comforting. As soon as the darkness was too dense to see my paw in front of my face, a chorus of weeping rose up into the night. _

_I was curled up in a ball, embracing my knees, shivering violently due to the fear and the bitter cold. Chila was behind me, our bodies fitting together like spoons, her frozen arms cradling me. Natalya didn't appear to be affected by the cold; she was sat bolt upright against the forbidding bars, staring at some fixed point in the distance. Without any warning or changes to her position, she started singing an eerie lullaby, her icy breath rising in the air in a ghost like fashion._

"_Hush now, my little baby,_

_Close those little eyes._

_Mother's watching over you,_

_Singing sleep time lullabies._

_Hush now, the sandman's coming,_

_With moon dust in his hand._

_Twinkling stars will guide you through,_

_On your journey to dream land."_

_As her sweet voice sang the last melancholy note, her paws moved in the air in a soft, stroking motion, her features tender and loving. Squinting through the gloom, she appeared almost...normal. Then her eyes glinted crazily and the madness of so many years of hopeless confinement fell back upon her, making me feel insufferably sad._

_Shuffling round, I wriggled to face Chila, taken aback when her usually jovial face was solemn and sombre._

"_Where did she get that song from?"_

_I asked, as it was impossible to believe anything as wonderful as music could possible penetrate our unrelenting fortress. Music made me think of all the past Jellicle Balls and my eyes filled with kitten tears._

"_She used to sing it to her kittens."_

"_What, before Macavity kidnapped her?"_

"_No, when she gave birth in here."_

_I gasped and Chila sighed sadly before continuing._

"_Queens often get pregnant with Macavity's kittens, but Jabez always takes them away, practically snatching them the minute they're born."_

"_What does he do to them?"_

_I whispered, afraid of the answer but certain it would gnaw relentlessly at my insides if I didn't find out._

"_He disposes of them; for their sake... I hope it's quick."_

_Chila said, talking as if she had a disgustingly foul taste in her mouth. I shuddered and we both knew it wasn't due to the cold._

"_Before she was..."_

_Chila waved her paws about in an attempt to find the right, and kind, word for totally bonkers. "...ill, she became pregnant she had a litter of three kittens, two Toms and a Queen."_

_I heard her swallow, as if a lump in her throat was making it a struggle to continue._

"_Jude, Acacio and Wilda were their names, I think. We desperately tried to hide them at first, squashing the poor little mites into a corner whenever Jabez or Macavity stuck their noses in and constantly gabbing away at the tops of our voices to drown out their tiny mews."_

_My heart was in my mouth, as it was obvious what had happened to those poor little kits; I couldn't bear to hear hear anymore, but Chila started talking faster, spitting out the words as if they were as deadly as arsenic. _

"_Jabez, inevitably, discovered them and beat Natalya within an inch of her life. Maybe he would have gone easier on her if she'd simply relinquished her kittens at the beginning, but she couldn't, not so heartlessly. It didn't matter anyway; he took them by force, handling them so roughly."_

_Chila's face was screwed up with guilt and disgust, making her look like a frightened kitten._

"_That really got to me, Goldie; these tiny kittens, eyes still glued shut, pawing uselessly at the air in a frantic attempt to locate their mother. They were so helpless, so delicate, so oblivious to the horrific world they'd been born into. Jabez held them by their tails-their _tails, _Goldie!- as if they were as worthless as garbage. Natalya looked on haplessly, her new wounds oozing blood; she's never been they same since."_

_Warily, I glanced over at Natalya; she was still propped against the bars, apparently unaffected by the story, but her bright eyes were glassy with unshed tears and she'd started murmuring to herself._

"_After that, every night she sings the song that lulled her kittens to sleep. I-I hope her voice reaches Heavyside so her kittens know how much she loves them."_

_Chila finished, tears welling in her own eyes._

_Neither of us attempted to start another conversation; we both stared at Natalya like a human stares at that magic box with moving pictures. We both knew Natalya would have a much harder time forgetting her family than Chila did._

**[End Flashback]**

After that, I had a sort-of unspoken respect for Natalya and her tortured kittens. We didn't talk often, but I occasionally recited the stories I'd whispered to Jemima all through her kittenhood, which she thoroughly enjoyed, and she sometimes tried to braid my headfur, muttering 'Golden Angel, Golden Angel.' Whenever Macavity stalked down the corridor, selecting a victim, she'd clutch hold of me and Chila, clinging onto the only comfort available when the screams started. She was lucky; her looks had faded as she lost her youth and sanity, she wasn't in danger of getting used. Me and Chila were still young enough to get it.

I couldn't watch when Chila turn came around; I always pressed myself against the wall with my ears plugged, unable to see someone I'd began to love being emotionally and physically scarred so badly. Funnily enough, I always found it more unbearable when it happened to Chila than to me; the pain reminded me I was still alive, the disgust reminded me I still had my morals, the loathing reminded me I still had my sanity.

Although I'd been terrified of forgetting after hearing Chila's story, the faces of my family weren't fuzzy with fog in my mind; they shone like restless fireflies behind my eyes. I could still remember the beautiful big eyes of my darling daughter, still heard my sister's flirty giggle, still felt every kiss Munk planted on my lips, cheeks or neck.

However, I'd given up all hope of ever getting away, of ever breathing air that wasn't tainted with blood, vomit or urine, of ever seeing real sunlight again. Chila, on the other hand, wasn't nearly as pessimistic; she seemed to determined to make me a free Queen again.

"We're going to get you out, Goldie, I just haven't decided how yet. You've got to get back to Munustrap and Jemima and Bombalurina."

Chila frequently said, talking about my family as if they were religious apostles. I'd always smile wryly and let the topic drop, not taking her seriously at all.

But, about a month or so after I arrived, I sensed Chila was keeping a secret from me. Surprised and hurt, I badgered her day and night, but she insisted I was simply being paranoid; for a while I believed her, as I'm (or rather _was_) famous for my paranoia in the junkyard, but then Natalya started acting strangely too. She kept saying goodbye to me all the time, though it wasn't as if I was going anywhere with twenty iron bars blocking the only exit. Of course, now I know why they didn't tell me; I would have done everything in my power to stop them if I'd only _known_.

* * *

One night, I was jolted awake by a nightmare and, for a split second, glanced around Munk's tender comfort before remembering. Ears twitching, I picked up tiny, snuffling, sobbing sounds; my mouth was shut so it couldn't be me.

Chila was sobbing pityingly into my headfur, clutching my arms like she couldn't bear to let me go. I didn't turn round, didn't try to dry her tears, didn't say a word. It scared me to hear her so broken; she was usually so strong and determined, it was like nothing made sense anymore. Bomba never liked me to see her in tears and I thought Chila would be the same, so I lay, rigid and silent, her tears warm and wet on my fur.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Goldie. Everlasting Cat, I hope you make it."

she whispered, her voice wobbling up and down with emotion.

Miss me? Why was she going to miss me? As far as I knew, I was stuck in here with her until Macavity had a change of heart and set us all free, which was about as likely as me buying Tugger one of those BFF necklaces that humans wear. Could Macavity be planning to exterminate me? Had Jabez been dropping dire hints and I simpy hadn't noticed?

"Chila?"

I whispered, overcome with curiosity. She stiffened, her sobs instantly receding into the odd sniff, although I knew she was awake.

"Why are you going to miss me? Where am I going?"

Chila sighed sadly, but stopped feigning sleep and talked to me properly.

"I'm busting you out of here, Goldie. Your daughter needs you, and I'm sure that problem your mate's fighting at the moment hasn't gotten any better since you left."

Chila said, and I winced at the thought. I'd been trying not to think about Munk's self-harming, as I was sure he'd have started cutting more after I landed myself in the massive mess with Macavity. It hadn't been that hard to push out of mind with all the other horrors I'd had to adapt to, but now all the previous worry came crashing down like a Tsunami wave. Hopefully, Tugger was keeping a watchful eye on him to make sure he didn't take it too far.

"How are you going to do that, Chila?"

She started to explain but stopped abruptly, shaking her head.

"Not here; someone might be listening. I suppose you'll find out soon enough."

she said ominously.

Of course, I didn't take her seriously at all; I thought she was pretending, kidding me so I'd slide into the harsh regime a little easier. I hadn't had so much of a glimpse of outside for so long it was almost an idle fancy, like Heavyside; always close by but utterly unreachable on land. Sunlight warming my face, the gentle relief of a summer breeze, the warm, iridescent April showers that Jemima loved to frolic in; all those tiny things I'd taken for granted when I experienced them on a daily basis. Now, I couldn't even imagine their beauty; I wouldn't fit in anymore-a small, dirty, broken cat, so out of place among such naturally picturesque surroundings.

I didn't ever expect to witness something as simply amazing as dappled sunlight through the branches of a tree, or a sunset after a snowstorm again, not from my hovel with Chila and Natalya. I was never getting out.

* * *

All through the next day, I was on pins and needles, waiting for Chila to try to 'bust me out'. I still didn't have even a glimmer of hope of anything being accomplished by the escape attempt; I was simply praying she wouldn't do something that got her too badly punished.

But the morning slipped away without any change in routine, confusing me; had Chila changed her mind after all? Mid afternoon, Jabez's menacing form haunted the forgotten corridor, the bars casting long, thin shadows over his dark fur. The sound of old metal grinding together made me wince as Jabez turned the rust-crusted key before entering our cell, his ears flattening in anticipation.

Wordlessly, as if simply acknowledging us would fill his mouth with bile, he dropped two mice on the floor-one for Chila and one for Natalya-shot a vicious glare at me and turned to leave.

Suddenly, so suddenly she made me yowl with surprise, Chila leapt up and flung herself at the unsuspecting Jabez, knocking his to the ground with the sheer force of her body weight. They tumbled to the ground with a crack, and I prayed that Jabez had broken a few teeth on the dirty concrete. Jabez screamed a swearword so foul it made my ears burn and aimed a swipe at poor Chila, but she hung on determinedly, teeth gritted firmly. I jumped up, thinking Chila had taken leave of her senses.

"Everlasting Cat, Chila, what are you doing?"

I shrieked, literally tearing my headfur out. Chila craned round to look at me, straining to keep Jabez on the floor.

"Run! Run away, Goldie! Quick, I can't hold him for long!"

she shouted, tears suddenly springing to her eyes.

"No, I can't! I can't leave you here."

I cried, bursting into tears as well. Chila bit her lip, eyes frantic as Jabez yowled and hissed with indignation.

"Yes, you can! Go on, get back to that daughter of yours, and your mate and sister. Don't worry about me, I've not got anyone anymore. You've got the chance of a long, happy life; don't throw it away for my sake."

Jabez was livid by that point and was flinging himself about wildly in an attempt to wriggle free; it was only a matter of time before he was after me. Chila knew it too.

"The keys! Get the keys, Goldie, and lock the cell door; that way he can't follow you."

she screached, nodding frantically to the keys that had been jerked out of Jabez's paw when Chila attacked him.

"I can't! If I do that, he'll kill you for sure!"

"He's going to kill me anyway, Goldie. Go, now! _Quickly!_"

I obeyed like an automaton, though every instinct told me to stay and fight for the two cats who, in a strange way, had become my family. I scooped up the keys and made for the door, blanking Jabez's furious orders to stop. When I scurried past Natalya she whispered:

"Goodbye, Golden Angel."

That was probably the moment my heart shattered into a million, unfixable pieces.

"Bye, Natalya..."

I sprinted out the door, slamming it shut with such a clatter it left my ears ringing. My paw shook with adrenalin and fear, so it took all I could to slot the rusty key in the correct position to lock the door, but I managed it eventually and then hurled the keys down the corridor, where they bounced off the heavy metal door.

"Goodbye Chila! I'll never forget you!"

I called through the bars, my heart racing as I saw that Chila was gripped by a now upright Jabez.

"Goodbye, Demeter! Go on, now, go home."

Waving a wistful goodbye one last time, I dashed down the long corridor, past each cell full of it's own atrocities, down to the little window I'd first entered through so long ago. Craning round, my mouth fell open I helplessly witnessed Jabez slitting Chila's throat from ear to ear, blood spurting like a scarlet fountain. Horrified, I clambered through the window, banging my shins horribly in my haste, into the stinging sunlight I never thought I'd see again.

I was free. But Chila, dear, kind Chila who shared her food with me and held me in her arms at night, wasn't free.

She was dead.


End file.
